


A Song for a Special Audience

by DezoPenguin



Category: GrimGrimoire
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DezoPenguin/pseuds/DezoPenguin
Summary: It's the night of Amoretta's first performance as a singer at the Camden Lane Music Hall, complete with opening-night jitters soothed by Lillet's presence in the audience.  It's afterwards in Amoretta's dressing room, though, that Amoretta and Lillet are able to explore a different theater tradition of a more private and intimate performance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this story would not have been possible without the contribution of my wife, Tarma Hartley, providing a keen editorial eye from a woman's perspective on the feelings, emotions, and sensations depicted. Thanks, sweetie!

The music-halls, Lillet Blan decided, were the great levelers of the capital. Down in the pit crowded the commoners, the truly destitute and the working class alike, jammed close in seating chosen to pack in as many paying customers as possible. Surrounding them were the slightly more spacious chairs of the better-off, foremen, shopkeepers, and clerks. And there were even boxes, albeit shabby ones, where well-to-do, gentry, and professionals could find room for entertainment a bit more "lowbrow" than the opera.

Lillet couldn't help but compare it to her own profession, magic. The twenty-year-old blonde had worked side-by-side with villagers and city-born, commonfolk and scions of nobility, foreigners and even a literal prince alike. She herself had been born on a farm not far from the capital, and still wasn't quite used to the idea that she was entitled to an "Excellency" in front of her name. That was why she was down in the seats, between a banker's clerk from the financial district and a shop-girl who was there with her gentleman friend. Ordering up a box felt like she was putting on airs, and seemed like a waste of money.

Besides, it wasn't like she was there with someone. Unlike the shop-girl, who was giggling against her lover's arm, Lillet had not come escorted to the music-hall. Rather, she was there _for_ someone.

As the audience lights were dimmed and the footlights turned up, a hush fell, the chattering of the crowd falling to a murmur. A tall, thickset man with a bushy brown moustache and side-whiskers climbed up onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Camden Lane. We have an excellent program of performers here tonight, including the capers of the Amazing Artorias, the comic duo of Monk and Fische, and the latest performance of Miss Louisa Brandywine, fresh from her tour of Illyria!" The cheers that greeted the prompter's announcement suggested that Miss Brandywine was quite a favorite with the regulars at Camden Lane. "But to start us off, we are proud to present the first public performance by a new talent. Please give a hearty welcome for the musical performance of Miss Amoretta Virgine!"

He stepped aside with a sweeping gesture of his arm and the heavy velvet curtains swept up and back as if conjured by his magic.

And there she was.

The stage was empty but for a single figure. She looked to be around eighteen, her delicate, beautiful face framed by long, ash-blonde hair that shone like spun moonbeams in the footlights. The audience watched expectantly, waiting for the performance to begin, but she hesitated. It was, after all, her first appearance on the music-hall stage. Amoretta bit nervously at her lip, eyes flicking across the audience as if seeking something, until as if pulled by a magnet her gaze swept to Lillet.

Smiling, the young magician raised her hand to about chest-height and gave Amoretta a little wave of encouragement. The singer took a deep breath, her high, firm breasts rising beneath the pale white of her bodice, and then she began to sing.

As set forth on the program, the first of her three songs was the classic folk-tune "Robin's Red," which even the city-born would have known from childhood. It was a brisk, upbeat song, easy even for someone who didn't have a good voice. And in truth, Amoretta did not have a good voice. 

She had a _magnificent_ voice. 

The music-hall stage was well-equipped with lady singers of middling talent but excellent beauty, the kind of girl who could put on a low-cut dress and a come-hither smile and fill seats by making trousers tight and drawers damp. With her pretty face and revealing dress (in virginal white, for that extra touch), Amoretta had looked to the audience like one more in that parade. 

By the end of the first song, the audience wouldn't have cared if she looked like a cave troll. 

Lillet couldn't help but grin at the shift in the crowd around her. People weren't letting their attention wander or murmuring to one another under their breath, they were focused on the stage, on the music. And when the song ended, the applause wasn't a polite smattering, it was a substantial acknowledgement of a job well done. 

Amoretta's second song was a popular, modern tune, one of those that gets hot and spends a month or so where every music-hall has at least one performance of it somewhere on the playbill. "My Blue-Eyed Brave" was a catchy, upbeat song that seemed destined to be favoring tavern common-rooms for years after its initial burst of popularity passed, and it was quite common for an audience (especially at the end of a night following post-intermission drinks) to chime in and sing along with the performance. Though Amoretta was the first act, there was still at least one person who was ready to join in along when the chorus started—only to be silenced three words in by an elbow to the ribs. Singing along was fun enough, but not when it drowned out a voice someone wanted to hear. 

The applause was stronger this time. It hadn't, in fact, been a great _performance—_ Amoretta didn't do a good job of really engaging her audience with looks, smiles, and gestures, and indeed she barely moved at all, as if she was rooted to the spot. But what she lacked in stage presence she made up for with her voice itself, which rang out clear and strong, hitting every note with stunning precision and carrying with it all the emotion that her body language lacked. 

A few of the more knowing audience members had seen the third song on the program, recognized it as the closing aria from _The Crimson Key_ , and had clucked their tongues at the idea of a music-hall singer trying her hand at opera. Now, those same doubters were eagerly looking forward to it. Many directors would deliberately have the aria performed _a capella_ if their prima donna could carry the part; the song was a lament to love betrayed and lost and the lack of accompaniment just served to emphasize the emotional weight, that aching emptiness. By the time Amoretta's voice let that final sustained note fall silent at last, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. 

Lillet was beaming with pride for her lover's accomplishments as she joined the rest of the audience in rising to her feet, applauding furiously. 

~X X X~ 

Space backstage at Camden Lane was at a premium; after all, every square foot spent on dressing rooms, storage, or corridor space was another seat for a paying customer lost. Stagehands and performers squeezed through narrow, ill-lit halls in a constant, bustling frenzy that resembled nothing so much as a colony of ants. Dressing rooms, of course, were small and cramped, and only the headliners had ones to themselves. 

Favorable audience reaction or not, Amoretta was definitely not yet a headliner. In truth, the fact that she shared a dressing room with only one other girl was less due to the talent she'd shown in her audition and more a matter of her agent, Ouzowen, being an old crony of the manager. 

When Amoretta made her way back to the dressing room, she found that roommate there. Saman'ti Buca was a dark Rouge Island girl who did juggling, fire-eating, and sleight-of-hand conjuring, the latter being a concept that Amoretta had had trouble wrapping her head around. Magic that wasn't actually magic? It seemed like an incredibly odd idea to the homunculus. Wouldn't it be better to have an actual magician perform tricks, if that was the point? 

"It isn't the point, though," Saman had explained. "Real magic is _supposed_ to be amazing, so if you see it on a music-hall stage it just seems...cheap, I guess. With a conjuror, you _know_ you're being fooled, and it still seems like magic anyway; now, _that's_ amazement that's the right kind for entertainment. Understand?" 

"Not very well, no," had been Amoretta's answer, "but that does happen fairly often." 

Saman had broken into good-natured laughter, and proclaimed that she liked the newcomer's sense of humor. 

"But I wasn't joking." 

"I know. That's what makes it funny!" 

When Amoretta entered, Saman was busy loading her rather skimpy costume with the tricks of her trade. The singer had been quite surprised by the sheer number of props that fit into the various folds, seams, and hidden pockets; it gave her a hint at the sort of amazement the audience was supposed to feel. Saman looked up with a big smile as she walked in. 

"Well! It sounds like that went just fine." 

Amoretta smiled back, genuinely pleased. 

"It did; the audience seemed to be very happy." 

"You don't need to tell me! In this old rattletrap of a theater, you can hear everything that happens out front back here. I thought the applause was going to shake the ceiling down." 

Amoretta glanced up in surprise, before realizing that Saman had spoken figuratively. She still had a little trouble with hyperbole. 

"Thank you very much." 

"Nah, thank _you_. When the opener gets the audience in a good mood, they stay that way all night unless someone utterly ruins it. So I get better reactions because they liked you." 

They squeezed past each other, barely having the room between the wardrobe cupboard at the dressing table Amoretta sat down in front of the mirror and began to remove the theatrical makeup that made her fine-boned features look right from a distance and under the stage lighting. 

"Well, that's good, then." 

"Darned right it is. Though maybe next week I can get old Banfi to move me down the program so I can watch you from the wings." 

"That would be nice," Amoretta agreed. "And that way, we wouldn't have to use the dressing room at the same time, when there's so little space." 

"You said it. 'Course, it could be worse. There was that one time I spent a month playing in a house when four of us had to share a room this size. We weren't even downbill; the place was just a hole in the wall." 

"That sounds very unpleasant." 

"Well, you've got to pay your dues somehow," Saman offered with a shrug. 

Amoretta decided that she was lucky to have gotten the opportunity to start her music career at Camden Lane instead of having to prove herself on a variety of levels. It _had_ been a stroke of good fortune to catch Mr. Ouzowen's eye at Lady Anheuser's musicale and impress him enough with her voice that he exerted himself to find her a good position. 

That blessing, though, was nothing compared to the one that truly mattered, the one that had her turning from the mirror, looking up towards the door before she even heard the footfalls outside or the soft knock. 

"Come in, Lillet," she called, and the door swung wide to indeed reveal the pretty young magician. Saman looked back and forth between the two of them in surprise, partly because backstage was really supposed to be for cast members only but mostly just of how Amoretta had known who it was. 

"You were amazing, little love," Lillet said, coming over at once. Amoretta rose to meet her, and Lillet clasped her hands between her own. "I don't think you've ever sang better." 

"Thank you. I was nervous at first; I was really glad that you were in the audience; knowing you were watching helped me to relax." 

Lillet grinned at her. 

"I'm glad that I could help." 

"I wasn't expecting to see you until after the show, though." 

"I wanted to congratulate you right away; I just couldn't wait to see you." 

"Better watch it if you snuck past old Humbrecht. He's an old dragon when it comes to watching backstage," Saman chimed in. Lillet grinned at her. 

"Do you mean the assistant stage manager with the hooked nose and bushy eyebrows?" At Saman's nod, she continued, "Don't worry; I got past the dragon fair and square by making a contribution to his hoard." 

"Bribery, Lillet?" Amoretta said, chiding. Sometimes, the magician was too quick to take end runs around the rules for Amoretta's comfort. Of course, Lillet had never done so unjustly or cruelly, but she could be weak to those lesser temptations. "But I'm so very glad you did come to see me now, so, I suppose I'm just weak to _that_ temptation." 

"And I do have that new position with a better salary now, so why not put it to good use?" 

Saman chuckled at the byplay. 

"Damn, Amoretta, I didn't figure you for the type to have a patron." 

"A patron?" 

"I think she thinks you're my mistress," Lillet explained. 

"Oh. Well, that's true, then, isn't it?" 

"Not quite." Lillet turned to the conjuror and said, "Amoretta and I have been lovers for four years now. We would be married were it not for personal circumstances, but we do share a home." 

Belatedly, Amoretta realized why Lillet was going into detail about their relationship. To be a mistress was little different from being an expensive courtesan who had only a single client at a time, and Lillet didn't want Amoretta to be subjected to that stigma, particularly because it wasn't true. 

She curled her fingers out of and around Lillet's giving her hands a warm squeeze of thanks for the gesture. 

"Now that," Saman said, "makes a lot more sense. So you came back to show wifey a little opening-night love, eh?" 

Lillet grinned back. 

"Well, wouldn't you?" 

"Heck, yeah, she's a cutie. Anyway, I'm on fourth tonight, so I'd better slip out and get ready." She squeezed her way past Lillet, then paused at the door. "It's pretty busy back here during intermission, and you'll probably put someone's nose out of joint if you're still around, bribe or not. But you'll still have enough time to finish up before then." She gave Lillet a playful swat on the rump, winked, and left the dressing room, whistling. 

Amoretta and Lillet burst out laughing as soon as the door closed. 

"I like her," Lillet said. "I'm glad that you're dealing with friendly people here. Did you enjoy performing?" 

"I did. I had a lot of fun, and it felt good, too. It's not the same as being loved, but to have the audience all focused on me and admiring my performance did feel very comforting. It's like being wrapped up in a quilt in front of a fire on a cold winter night, perhaps?" 

The "personal circumstances" Lillet had referred to as why she and Amoretta weren't married weren't family or economic problems. The issue was rather more fundamental: Amoretta wasn't human, and the Church was not willing to extend the sacrament of marriage to a homunculus, even one that had the spirit of a literal angel serving as her core, stabilizing her existence and acting in place of a soul. 

While Amoretta was a masterwork of magical craftsmanship, she was still just that—a thing, created by the manipulation of magical law, and the gap between the existence her angel core was supposed to occupy and the one it actually did was one she felt keenly. It was not an act of God's love, but human will, that had placed that core in that body, and the absence left a gulf, a desperate hollowness in her existence. Nor had her creator, Dr. Chartreuse Grande, loved her as other than as the product of his alchemy; he felt no love for the individual person Amoretta. She needed that love to endure, for her very survival. 

And then she'd met Lillet. Lillet, who for whatever reason looked upon her and loved her, took delight in her presence, cared for her, and wanted her happiness above everything else. Amoretta could _feel_ the truth of that love filling the gaps in her spirit, sustaining her and making her whole. 

That hadn't been the greatest blessing in her life, though. The greatest blessing was that she loved Lillet back. Not gratitude for what Lillet had done or some kind of mirror of her feelings, but _love_ , the real thing. That had been by no means a given, and it was to her mind so much more rare and precious that she, with her unnatural background, could feel this way, could even _be_ part of a couple. 

Just because humans didn't need love for their existence, after all, didn't mean that they didn't actually require it in other ways. 

"So the 'love of the crowd' isn't really enough on its own, then." 

"No; it's not the same thing at all. It's even more superficial than an infatuation, which is more about what's in your own mind than what its object is really like. I could feel exactly where you were in the audience, because what you feel is so much stronger." 

"I saw you looking for me." 

Shyly, Amoretta admitted, "I was nervous at first, performing in front of a crowd. I'm really glad you could attend; I know how busy you are." 

"Of course I came; it's your opening night, your very first professional performance! There was no way that I would miss that, no matter how much paperwork they threw at me. Though I didn't even have to threaten to turn anyone into a toad, as it happens." 

"Well, that's good. They're just doing their jobs." 

"They're officious twits, for the most part. Palace functionaries and minions of ministers either trying to manipulate me into a dependent position or currying favor to seek benefits or an alliance." 

Less than a month ago, Queen Martelle had appointed Lillet to the position of Mage Consul, the kingdom's senior minister in charge of the supervision and practice of magic. It was a Grand Council position, one that actually outranked the head of the Royal House of Magic, so it wasn't surprising that Palace politics should start circling around Lillet. Moreover, since the position had been unoccupied for decades before Lillet's appointment, she had been exceptionally busy setting up her own staff and office routine, often keeping her working late into the night. 

"Be nice." 

"I am being nice! Like I said, I didn't resort to a single curse. Not even one boil on the Exchequer's nose!" 

Amoretta giggled. 

"He ought to be thankful to you. At the least, you're not misusing government funds to support your mistress." 

"I think it's because I grew up a peasant. I don't really know the etiquette behind these things." 

"I could ask around. I think that a number of the performers here have well-off patrons, so they ought to know what the proper social structure is for a government minister's relationship with her lover." 

Lillet blinked in surprise; then Amoretta grinned at her, letting her in on the joke. 

"I thought you were serious for a second, there!" Lillet said, laughing. Amoretta's smile only grew wider with the warm, fuzzy feeling she got from her successful joke. She'd found that she could be surprisingly effective with "deadpan" humor precisely because there were so many things about human culture that didn't come naturally (or even make sense) to her, so that those who knew her _expected_ her to occasionally say what seemed (to them) to be the most outrageous things with a straight face. 

"You should know better. After all, it isn't like our relationship really resembles a patron and mistress. Most of the time, there's very little love involved in such things, just lust and avarice and a dreadful cynicism." 

Lillet reached out and pulled Amoretta into a close embrace, holding her tight against her body, burying her face in the other woman's hair, then bent down and kissed her. Her lips were soft and gentle on Amoretta's, but the homunculus could feel a tension in her body. 

"In all honesty, there _is_ a certain amount of lust in how I see my lover," Lillet said, a little sheepishly. 

Amoretta shook her head. "No, there isn't." 

"Are you sure you've been paying attention these past few years?" 

She wanted to giggle, but didn't, because there was an important point to be made. 

"Desire and arousal aren't lust, Lillet. You cannot have lust where there is kindness, affection, and love. Those are what turn what could be called dreadful temptation into a wonderful gift." 

Lillet blushed. 

"I hadn't actually meant it in the literal sense of the _sin_ of lust," she said, "but thank you for the reminder. It's nice to keep in mind that wanting you is a _good_ thing, not something to be embarrassed about." 

She raised her hand to cup Amoretta's cheek; Amoretta pressed her own hand over it and snuggled against Lillet's captured palm. Her lover's skin was warm against Amoretta's coolness. Lillet's other hand was still at Amoretta's waist, pressed just below the small of her back, holding their bodies tightly together, thighs against thighs, her breasts pushed up under Lillet's. Amoretta's stage outfit was thin, and she could feel the heat of the other woman's body even through it. 

"But you know, little love," Lillet said, "even though we're in love with each other, it is still important to satisfy etiquette. After all, you and I have both just stated on our new careers. We wouldn't want to get a bad reputation right from the very beginning." 

"No, we wouldn't." Amoretta wondered what Lillet was playing at. Her words were straightforward enough, but her voice had grown throatier, richer. The sound of it made Amoretta shiver. All the talk of mistresses and lovers and desire, combined with Lillet's physical presence, was having its effect on her. 

She squeezed her thighs together against the clenching pulse, felt the trickle of wetness within herself. 

"And your friend made it clear that when a patron visits her lover in her dressing room, well, there are expectations." 

Lillet's hand slid lower, cupping Amoretta's bottom through the dress, stroking and gently squeezing in small circles. 

_Oh._

"It would be very impolite to turn down Saman'ti's generously offered advice," Amoretta agreed, leaning in against Lillet. 

Their mouths came together in the next moment, Lillet's coming down as she tipped Amoretta's face up to meet hers. The kiss was firm, urgent; the energy she'd held back the last time was unleashed now. Amoretta slid her hand into Lillet's long, unbound hair, feeling the honey-blonde mane tumbling like a silken wave over her skin, then cupped the back of her head to hold her there as Amoretta deepened the kiss. Lips parted and tongues slid together, tasting each other's sweetness. When they broke apart at last, Amoretta found Lillet staring at her, violet eyes meeting her gaze with naked passion. 

"The door," Amoretta managed to say. "Anyone could walk in." 

It took a couple of seconds for her words to penetrate Lillet's desire-clouded thoughts, but they did, and Lillet pulled free, Amoretta's hands not cooperating easily with her own idea, so strong was the urge to keep touching Lillet, to feel even more of her lover's skin beneath her fingers. She knew that Lillet knew magic that could have sealed that door proof against siege-engines, but it was all the witch could do to take two steps to the door and twist the key in the old, battered lock with trembling hands. 

Amoretta's own fingers felt thick and clumsy as she tried to tug her dress off, and she heard a popping sound as a seam gave out and she tore it down to pool at her feet, then yanked off her chemise. Her nipples were drawn up so hard and tight that they ached, even the stroking of soft linen over them as she bared her breasts sent a surge through them and another hot pulse surging through her core. 

"There, now we won't be—" Whatever else Lillet was going to say was lost as she turned around to be greeted with the sight of Amoretta in nothing but stockings and shoes. She stared at her, devouring the vision with her gaze, and Amoretta couldn't help but feel a warm satisfaction within her at the effect she was having. 

"And they call _me_ a witch," Lillet said. "If they knew how enchanting you are..." 

She took two quick steps forward and with arms and shoulders trained on a decade of farm chores scooped up Amoretta's slender form and deposited her on the narrow couch. Amoretta gave a squeak of happy surprise, and she wound her arms around Lillet's shoulders as the magician covered her body with her own. Lillet's dress slid across Amoretta's bare skin, tickling and teasing. 

Their mouths met again, tongues melding together in an eager, craving dance. Amoretta felt the blood pounding in her veins, the heat flaring through her at the presence of her lover's touch. Her kiss was hot and avid, matching Lillet's passion. 

One of Lillet's hands had been at her waist, from when she'd picked Amoretta up, and now she slid it up her flank. Lillet's skin felt warm against the homunculus's, communicating her lover's desire with every touch. Fingers teased over Amoretta's ribs, then cupped one naked breast, stroking, lightly squeezing, weighing its fullness. 

The caress just made the tightly-drawn nipple ache to be touched even more. As if she could feel it, too—and perhaps she as good as did, from their years together, exploring each other's bodies and discovering what they each liked and didn't—her thumb came up, circling the point, sliding over the crinkled flesh of her areola, making her breath come quick and ragged into Lillet's mouth. 

Lillet's tongue dipped and danced against Amoretta's, a wicked serpent promising knowledge of passion and pleasure, of a completion to the throbbing heat between her legs. But there was nothing truly wicked about it; this was her beloved, after all. Pressed up against Lillet's body like this it was easy to feel the essence of Lillet's love for her echoing against her spirit. The pure force of it made it easy to succumb, to give herself up to the appetites of her body, to arch herself against Lillet, thrust her own tongue ahead to taste,to plunder the sweetness of Lillet's kisses, and to push her back up, pressing her breast against the cup of Lillet's palm. 

Her lover read the message at once, thumb and forefinger closing around the nipple. They squeezed gently, plucked, tugged at the stiffened flesh, each time sending a pulse through her that fueled the wet heat at her core, driving her desire further. She writhed beneath Lillet, feeling the velvet of Lillet's dress sliding across her bare skin, arching her hips upward. Her thighs tried to spread open, seemingly of their own accord, so that she could press herself up against her lover. 

Lillet broke off the kiss and Amoretta let out her breath in a rush. Lillet's mouth did not leave her, though, only moved down from her lips, over her jaw, down to her neck. She sucked hard at Amoretta's skin, the sudden pressure drawing another gasp from her. The sweet, faintly spicy scent of the pomade Lillet had dressed her hair with filled her nostrils, flavoring the sensations she felt with Lillet's presence. She wanted to fill all her senses with her, her scent, her taste, the sight of her beauty in all its glory, the sound of her groans and cries of satisfaction, the touch of her beneath her hands and the rapture that Lillet ignited in her own flesh. 

Moving down further, Lillet's lips closed over her collarbone, sucking again, knowing it for a sensitive spot. Amoretta whimpered once more, then cupped the back of Lillet's head, holding it against her. Lillet read Amoretta's wordless urging yet again, sucking harder, even biting the thin layer of skin over the clavicle. Amoretta gasped, then cried out as the pressure seemed to spread out in tingling surges through her, the near-pain there and at her breast driving hot pulses deep within her, so that she could feel herself clench with need. 

Amoretta pushed against Lillet's head, guiding it down, and Lillet followed her direction, her mouth moving over the slope of her right breast to the nipple, taking it between her lips. She sucked hard, drawing on it, working it with lips and teeth and tongue even as her fingers did the same to the other one. Amoretta twisted beneath her, pushing upwards, trying to grind herself up into Lillet, to relieve some of the ferocious need Lillet was building in her, but couldn't do so cleanly; the angle was wrong to make that connection. 

"Ah! Lillet!" Amoretta cried out. "Please! I need..." 

With her lover's body pressed up against her, Amoretta could feel the emotion burning between them, the glow of Lillet's love for her suffusing her, filling her up, and it made her body even more aware, responding to that feeling. She writhed under Lillet's touch, the pressure maddening as it built inside her. 

Lillet shifted her weight, freeing up her other hand from where it had been bracing herself against the back of the sofa, and slid it down Amoretta's bare flank, tracing the outline of her ribs as it slid around below her breast, then down across her belly, going lower and lower. A fingertip playfully traced the outline of her navel, then went lower still, over the sleek, smooth flesh of her mound and to the wet cleft below. 

Another time, perhaps, Lillet would have teased her, let her fingers play over Amoretta's lips, gently stroking and exploring, letting her passion build. But not this time. She knew what she wanted to do to Amoretta, knew what Amoretta wanted _from_ her as well by the way she'd responded to her mouth, her touch. Here she was in the hands of her lover backstage in a music-hall dressing room; she wanted to be _taken_ , hard, fast, even roughly, with the kind of fierce desire that suited making love in a place like this, the two women so caught up in their craving for one another that just waiting to go home at the end of the evening would be an unbearable torment. 

She pushed a finger past Amoretta's outer lips, finding her wet and slippery from her seeping desire, then slid it inside her, opening her up. Amoretta felt herself clench down reflexively, reacting to the intimate invasion, pushing up to accept her lover. Lillet pulled back, then entered her again, sliding her finger fully within. Amoretta looked down, and found Lillet looking up at her from her breast, her liquid violet gaze taking in every reaction. On her third stroke she added a second finger, driving them in up to the knuckle, and Amoretta cried out as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. 

Affirmed by her lover's response, Lillet commenced to drive her fingers into her in short, powerful strokes, thrusting up inside Amoretta. The homunculus couldn't help but respond, pushing her hips up to meet each stroke, to take Lillet into her even harder. She pulled Lillet's face down against her breast, urging, demanding more, responding to everything Lillet did with even more feverish need. A series of mewling cries came from her lips; it was impossible _not_ to call out, to vocalize what she was feeling as she thrashed beneath her lover. 

Then Lillet circled her thumb around and brought it down over Amoretta's throbbing bud, grinding it across the core of her pleasure with every thrust of her hand, and all too fast Amoretta was lost. She arched up against Lillet, every muscle in her body seeming to draw tight at once. She felt her inner walls clamp down, trapping Lillet's hand, and she threw her head back and her vision dissolved into a haze. 

"Oh! Ahh! _Lillet!_ " 

The mist cleared away slowly as her eyes refocused. She lay limp and drained, still feeling herself trembling, fluttering around Lillet's hand. The witch had drawn herself up, away from Amoretta's breasts, and was gazing down at her with a smile that seemed positively smug playing around her lips. 

"I do love you so," Lillet said, gently brushing her hand over Amoretta's cheek, her touch as soft and tender as it had been avid and demanding a moment ago. 

"I know," Amoretta said, because she did. How could she not, with Lillet lying pressed against her, thoughts filled with her, a soft, golden warmth that soothed and energized all at the same time, filling the empty parts between her angel spirit and the body it inhabited. She wished that Lillet could feel her love in the same way, to _know_ it beyond the possibility of doubt the way she did. "I love you, too, more than I could ever tell," she said, hoping that her words could help bridge that gap as best they could. 

"I'm glad, though," Lillet said. 

_That I love her?_ Amoretta thought at first, then realized that no, Lillet must have meant something else, something specific by it. 

"Of what?" 

"Well, now that you're a professional singer, everyone in the audience gets to hear your wonderful voice. So I'm very glad that there's still one song you only sing for me." 

Her eyes danced with salacious merriment, and Amoretta glanced away shyly. She felt a little smile playing around her lips, though, and why not? She was a creature with physical desires just as a human was, and it made her happy that Lillet wanted her, doubly so that their lovemaking _was_ lovemaking, shared intimacy as well as shared passion. 

The thought made her realize something else, though. She turned back to Lillet, then reached up and brushed back a few loose strands of honey-blonde hair that perspiration had stuck to Lillet's forehead before putting on her best flirtatious smile. 

"Well, I'm very happy that you enjoyed your private performance," she tried for as sultry a tone as she could manage, "but don't you think you should stay for the entire show?" 

"Oh? What do you mean?" 

"This may just be my first night as a singer, but from the way Saman and the other women talk I gather that if a patron visits their mistress after the show that they expect to have their sexual needs attended to. The _mistress_ serves the _patron's_ pleasure, not the other way around." 

Amoretta squeezed her thighs together against Lillet's hand, which was still inside her. The pressure, plus the things she was saying, sent a little quiver through her, leftover embers of her desire that were threatening to flare up afresh. 

"But that's what I wanted," Lillet said. "You looked so beautiful that I couldn't keep my hands off you. And you playing at being a mistress like that, well..." She bent her head, and with her lips up against Amoretta's ear so that the warm breath tickled her skin when she spoke, said in a husky, almost growling voice, "My pleasure was to fuck my beautiful lover to satisfaction." 

Amoretta wriggled under her as another surge of excitement played through her at Lillet's words. The witch so rarely resorted to vulgarity that her slipping into it now thrilled Amoretta, not because of the word but because of what it said about the strength of Lillet's desires. 

And that she wasn't the only one feeling that craving flare up again. 

"But I'm _not_ satisfied," she told Lillet, "and I won't be until I make you feel the same." 

"Is that so?" Lillet purred. 

"Very much so." 

Lillet chuckled, the sound warm and rich. 

"Well," she said, "as I understand these things, the patron is supposed to get what _she_ wants when she visits her mistress. But I can't argue with your impeccable logic, little love. Though, what about what Saman'ti said? Do you think we'll have enough time before intermission?" 

"If we don't," Amoretta told her, "then it shall be her fault for making the suggestion in the first place without regard for the consequences." 

Lillet flexed her hand, the fingers still sheathed within Amoretta moving inside her, and drew an immediate response, Amoretta's hips shivering. 

"You _are_ eager tonight." 

"For you, always," Amoretta said, and pulled Lillet's face down to hers, lips flowering open again at once. Her hands flowed over Lillet's body as they kissed, feeling her soft curves through the velvet dress yet frustrated that she could not get to the skin beneath. Dropping below Lillet's waist, she seized fistfuls of fabric, pulling and tugging to steadily bunch more and more material around Lillet's waist. All the while Lillet's hand was moving softly, gently, in and on her. She'd turned her wrist when she slid up to kiss Amoretta, so that the heel of her hand was now over Amoretta's clit, pressing down in circular motions that made her fingers flex within her. 

It was _maddening_ , the way the caresses built her back up, teased her onward towards that peak of pleasure, and twice so because she so wanted to return them, to feel Lillet tremble under _her_ touch, and she couldn't do it. The skirts were too bulky, the fabric too thick to pull up, not while the front was trapped between their legs, and her fingers felt clumsy with her rising passion. 

She broke the kiss, surprising Lillet, but then before she had to explain understanding dawned in her lover's gaze. 

"I'm sorry. If I'd expected this, I'd have worn a dress that didn't require a lady's maid to get me out of, or worse yet get back into." 

She got up off of Amoretta and hoisted her skirts to her waist, revealing her stocking-clad legs to the homunculus's avid gaze, the figured silk held at their tops by violet-ribboned garters. Amoretta's eyes followed up higher, past the creamy flesh of Lillet's thighs to the nest of dark golden curls. The hair glistened in the lamplight, wet with perspiration and with the nectar of the magician's own need, wetness that bedewed the pink lips nestled below. 

Amoretta ran her tongue over her lips, a lewdly silent invitation to her lover. Lillet responded at once, climbing up onto the couch once again but this time straddling Amoretta's head, facing her feet, a knee to either side of her shoulders. Amoretta slid her hands up Lillet's legs, felt the smooth silk of her stockings give way to skin heated with desire, then up further to the firm globes of Lillet's bottom. She squeezed, savoring the feel of Lillet's curves, and used the grip to help brace herself while she raised her head and took a long, slow taste of the intimate flesh so appealingly presented to her. 

Lillet's taste was heady: sweetness mingled with the musky flavor of strong desire, and the scent of her filled Amoretta's nostrils as she ran her tongue the length of her lover, mute evidence of how excited Lillet had been to make love to her. The first taste only made her want more and she kissed, licked, explored, dipping the tip of her tongue between Lillet's outer lips in little, probing licks. A soft gasp escaped Lillet, sound joining Amoretta's other senses in filling with the sensations of her lover's pleasure, and it made her want more, want to make Lillet's body, at least, know the depth of her feelings. 

To that end, she would have rather drawn things out, licking and teasing in all the ways she knew Lillet liked, bringing her to the edge of release and back down again, over and over again, driving Lillet wild and extracting every bit of pleasure her body had to offer. They didn't have time for that, though; what made these snatched moments of intimacy precious was their fleeting nature as much as their physical joys. 

So, Amoretta probed her tongue between Lillet's outer lips, slid it the length of her, swirled it around her clit, tracing patterns with gentle but firm pressure, and Lillet cried out. Encouraged, she slid her tongue back, pushing it between Lillet's inner lips, into her channel, thrusting inside of her to taste the fresh trickle of arousal seeping from her. Amoretta licked, thrust, twisted, then went back to Lillet's clit, lashing at the center of her pleasure. She knew what her lover liked, and was rewarded with a series of moans, soft cries, and the way Lillet writhed atop her, her thighs clenching with each stab of pleasure running through her. She could feel Lillet growing closer and closer, led on by Amoretta's cunning tongue— 

Then, suddenly, the rhythm of her lovemaking was cut off sharply when Lillet all but lunged forward, burying her face between Amoretta's thighs and taking Amoretta's aching clit between her lips, sucking at the taut bud while she swirled her tongue, and a spasm ran through Amoretta's body. 

_I should have known_ , Amoretta thought, _that she wouldn't have been willing to just wait and passively enjoy. After all, she told me exactly what she wanted tonight._ And she would have likely been facing the other way if she'd been content only to receive, too, which would have given Amoretta easier access and Lillet more leg room on the couch plus the ability to brace herself against the dressing room wall. 

_Clever witch_ , she thought with affection. 

But Amoretta was not going to submit so easily. Tightening her grip to keep herself in place even when shudders ran through her entire body at Lillet's ministrations, set her own tongue back to work. Lillet trembled, letting loose a groan that was muffled between Amoretta's thighs. But she, too, would not let up, and continued to suckle at Amoretta's throbbing clit, sending hot pulses throbbing deep within her that made her shiver, tongue stuttering as it slid across Lillet's intimate flesh. She cried out, whimpering, gasping, and knew it was sweet music to Lillet's ears, just as the groans and soft cries she wrung from her lover were to her. 

It was a struggle all the same, trying to keep giving Lillet pleasure while she could barely control herself, her hips pushing up almost of their own accord, chest heaving, fingers clenching at Lillet's bottom, nails reflexively biting in. There was no more artistry in how she devoured Lillet's womanhood, her mind too clouded by pleasure for technique or tricks. All that was left was something far more basic, the elemental, passionate need for her lover's body. 

Nor was it her alone; Lillet, too, was losing control of herself, in the hunger for Amoretta, to love and be loved, and for the release they were rushing on towards together. Amoretta felt herself on the very edge, the spasmodic trembling beginning to ripple through her thighs, her breath catching in her throat, and she ground her tongue down hard onto Lillet, so that her lover stiffened above her and cried out before she, too, was swept away by the rising tide. Fireworks seemed to explode behind her eyes, and she lost all sense of time and place as satisfaction consumed her. 

They lay there, tangled together for several long minutes, Lillet's head pillowed on Amoretta's thighs with her hair spilling down over her. When she stirred, golden tresses slid across her bare skin in a tickling caress. 

"Mmm, you were wonderful, little love," Lillet purred. The description of her voice was fitting; Amoretta knew that tone was always accompanied by a smile of lazy, even smug contentment like a cat. 

"So were you." Impishly, she added, "So, are you pleased with your visit to your mistress, Mage Consul?" 

Lillet chuckled softly. 

"Oh, very much so." She pressed a kiss against Amoretta's leg. "But the best part is, you'll come home with me as my beloved." 

A soft warmth seemed to fill the homunculus at those words. 

"Thank you." 

"It's the truth, you know." 

"I do. That's why I thanked you." 

Slowly, they disentangled themselves from one another, Lillet especially taking care to not accidentally put her weight full down on an elbow or knee on Amoretta's body or to kick her while swinging a leg around. Amoretta helped guide her, steering her limbs safely past, and soon Lillet was standing up, straightening the heavy folds of her dress as best she could while Amoretta sat up and watched. 

"My hair is a mess," Lillet concluded, eyeing herself critically in the dressing-table mirror. "Anyone who sees it will have a fair idea what I've been up to. Not that I really care, but"—she winked at Amoretta—"it's not nice to encourage other people to sin." 

"Sin? You don't think what we just did was wrong, do you?" 

"Oh, no. I'm talking about the envy I'll inspire in anyone who realizes whom I was with." 

"Lillet!" Amoretta couldn't help but chuckle, though. 

"May I borrow your hairbrush?" 

"Of course. Go ahead." 

Lillet reached for the brush while Amoretta got up to retrieve her dress. Then, both froze in mid-motion as the sound began to rise outside, clattering feet and multiple voices indicating that intermission had arrived. 

"I think I may have outstayed my welcome," Lillet said, dropping her brush and taking out her wand. 

"You're going to perform magic?" 

"I hope Saman'ti won't mind me doing a disappearing act, but I thought summoning a pixie to turn me invisible might help save some embarrassment for us both." 

"I'm sorry that you have to go." 

"I am, too. I love you, Amoretta." 

"I love you, too." 

They held each other's gaze for a long moment, then Lillet bent and began to sketch out the lines of the summoning Rune on the floor. 

"I'll meet you at the stage door with the carriage after the show. Though, it's too bad that we can't just watch the rest of the acts together." 

"I know. I suppose that's the problem with _being_ one of the acts." 

"Well," Lillet said with a saucy grin, "at least I can definitely say that it was a memorable performance." 

Amoretta smiled warmly at her teasing. 

"Then if you're lucky, perhaps there will be an encore tonight at home." 


End file.
